


A favour to ask

by microdreams



Series: Drarryland2019 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Drarryland: A Drarry Game/Fest, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microdreams/pseuds/microdreams
Summary: “You know me. Clock in. Clock out.”If only Harry knew.





	A favour to ask

Draco loves this time of day. Harry _always_ has paperwork to do in an evening, but since Draco started staying over more regularly he's been bringing it home to work on.

Harry’s sat with legs slung over Draco's lap, files Levitating before him. A glass of wine sits under a stasis charm, a treat for when he's finished.

He groans as Draco finds a particularly knotty muscle in his calf. "I'm so glad you don't have to bring home your work. Your fingers are _magic._

Draco shimmies his fingertips creating a showy display of sparks in response. “You know me. Clock in. Clock out.”

If only Harry knew. He thinks Draco’s dealing with Galleons and Goblins where in fact, half of his caseload could melt their brains out of their ears of an evening if he brought it here, rather than leaving it safely in Mysteries. He thinks ruefully of the rejected paperwork for ‘Unspeakable Life Partner/Spouse Disclosure.” Apparantly _‘Just because you’re dating Harry Bloody Potter, son, does not mean you can bypass the requirements. When either your listed address is the same as his, or there is a ring on your finger, lad, then fill in the forms again.’_

“Go easy!” Harry flinches and Draco apologetically relaxes his grip on Harry.

He sips his wine, and tries to find some calm. He hates keeping anything from Harry, but they’d be down on him like a ton of bricks if he steps out of line.

“Well, well. I’m guessing this is one of your lot? You’re the spit of him.” Draco glances across at the photo Harry is holding out. His stomach clenches. Someone in Mysteries has fucked up. Royally.

“What’s this?” He’s aiming for nonchalant, but he’s not sure he’s hitting it.

“A cold case. A _really_ cold case.” Harry flips the photo and reads the back. “1912.” He hands it over to Draco, who watches the action in the photo loop. It is a crowd at a party. Off to the side of the main focus, a wizard and witch in a heated discussion, is a figure who is clearly a Malfoy. “Any idea who it might be?” He grins. “It really is uncanny. Has your eyes. And hair.”

“1912? Myron Malfoy would have been around that age then.” He’s not lying, not really. He hasn’t said it _is_ Myron. “What’s it for?”

“Some artefacts came to light in a haul from a robbery recently. It seems they might be related to this old case. So we’re going back through it. Trying to make the links. It’ll be good, two snitches with one seeker.” He taps his fingers on the couple. “It was a bit of a scandal at the time. Death. Love. Intrigue. Mysteriously vanishing heirlooms.” Draco looks intrigued. He is. Genuinely. He has no idea about Harry’s case, he’d been at the party for entirely different reasons. Which is presumably why this photo had been missed in the usual Departmental sweeps through Ministry files.

“Does Myron have a portrait?”

It still fucks with his brain a bit that this photo existed before he had even been born. Stored away in Ministry files waiting for _him_ to exist, so that _he_ could go back in time, so _it_ would be taken. Time is weird. He wonders idly if it’s existence would have reassured him, back in the days when he wondered if they would even survive.

“Yes. In the East Wing.” Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Why had he let his thoughts drift? He blames the wine and the warm press of Harry’s muscles against his.

“Great. I’ll go and have a word tomorrow when we’re round for lunch.”

Draco thinks quickly. Pouts at Harry petulantly. “I do hope you aren’t going to devote the whole weekend to work, Potter? I thought you wanted to ask my Mother’s advice on the garden?” He scowls towards the rear of the house. “You certainly need it.”

Harry pushes the floating files aside, casts Finite Incantatem, making them a rough pile by the sofa. He twists in his seat and suddenly Draco has a lap full of apologetic Harry Potter.

“Sorry, babe. Of course not. I’ll just have a quick word with the portrait to see if it is worth coming back during the week to have a fuller chat. No other work. I promise.” He starts to kiss a trail up Draco’s neck. Draco settles himself back slightly against the cushions, drops his leg to the side to allow Harry to shift closer and straddle his thigh.

“Good.” He’s a little embarrassed at how breathless he already sounds. “I can think of plenty of other things you could be doing instead.” Harry grinds down a little, eliciting a shameless groan from Draco.

Before he gives himself completely over to this, before he loses his thoughts to the intoxicating attention of the man he loves, he forms a plan. Tomorrow he’ll get his mother talking about the garden immediately, while he goes and primes Myron. He’s always seemed a decent sort, unlike Abraxas. He’s likely to agree to a favour. Cover for him for a short while.

Then on Monday he’s going back to Shutterthwaites office and resubmitting those forms. Ring on his finger or no, he’s going to exploit the fact that it’s ‘ _Harry Bloody Potter_ ’ he is dating to get the paperwork fast tracked. Even if he has to go to the Minister herself. 

He wants to share everything with this man: brain melting artefacts, cursed necklaces, memories, prophecies, and the looped nature of time itself.

He’s still never going to bring his work home though. He can think of _much_ better things to do with his evenings.

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta’ed
> 
> Drarryland House: Pennydew
> 
> Drarryland2019 Bonus prompt:
> 
> Category: Forbidden Forest  
> Prompt: 2
> 
> Harry thinks Draco works a boring desk job at Gringotts until he finds a clear photograph of Draco dated 1912.
> 
> Minimum 455  
> Maximum 954
> 
> Wordcounter.net says this is 948!


End file.
